Welcome to the New Age
by ArcRyder
Summary: Despite all laws of nature dictating the rivalry between badgers and serpents, Angel and Albert simply fit. Their friendship somehow transcends social expectations and their adventures probably break every single rule at Hogwarts. Join Angel and Albert as they shake the very foundation of Hogwarts hallowed halls. SYOC
1. Chapter 1 - Welcome to the New Age

*Update 12/14/2013

Hey, this is MaliceArchangela! We love the characters we're getting, but we have an abundance of certain characters. No more purebloods, please! We're given the impression that they are all inter-related by this point, and that there's not many left as a result. So, NO MORE PUREBLOODS!

Another thing, you stand a MUCH better chance of getting your character accepted if you make a Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. I think we've got just enough of Gryffindors and Slytherins.

Thank you, and keep sending in those characters!

* * *

Albert resists the urge to hide behind his parents, even as he struggles to keep his eyes from widening.

The Darling family does not gawk. They are never less than immaculate. They are proud, standing up straight and tall.

Even as the whispers swirl around them.

For most people, the train on your first year is the time when you are able to meet the people that you know you are going to be best friends with for the rest of your time at Hogwarts. Or, you know, your enemies. It is a melting pot of people, at least of first years. They mingle freely with each other, without the label of various houses to keep them apart.

Like attracts like, of course. Especially amongst those from magical families. The people who had already decided which house they wanted to go to in order to gather with more of the same.

Albert knows which house he will be going into. As a member of the pureblood Darling house, his family has been entering Slytherin for as long as they have been attending Hogwarts. He will be no different. He is not courageous and stubborn and outspoken like those in Gryffindor. He is intelligent, but lacks that extra something that all Ravenclaws possess yet none but them can solve the riddle of exactly what it is. And he is not kind, not loyal, not trustworthy enough, and not well-rounded enough to ever be mistaken for Hufflepuff.

Slytherin is where he belongs, and he would never consider disputing the fact.

But Albert has no illusion about the fact that he will be unwelcome. There is currently a sort of social stigma that comes with being a Slytherin, despite the attempts of many to erase it by focusing on uniting the houses of the school.

But it is going to be different for Albert. It is not as simple as having three-quarters of the school against him. Members on both sides of the Great War hate his family, and by extension, him. While the events of the war were happening, from the moment He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named appeared, and until relatively recently, when Harry Potter had defeated him, the Darling family had locked themselves away in their large households with the strongest magic they could get a hold of. They had connected their mansions by a series of tunnels, and set up large barriers so that no one could even attempt to approach them. They had bound their respective houses, each with a _Fidelius_ charm, and a member of each mansion served as the secret-keeper to the other. In such a way, to give up your family would be paramount to giving up yourself. This was never explicitly stated, but everyone knows it.

Anyone who might have been considered a danger to the family had been banished when the Darlings closed their walls. Exiled. No one knows their names. No one knows what happened to them.

But there they stayed, safe and sound in their iron cages, until a few years after the defeat of the Dark Lord, at which point the elders finally deemed it safe to emerge from their protective cocoon.

That was less than a year ago, just long enough for Albert to see the outside world before having to get ready for going to school outside his home for the first time ever.

Friendless was alright, though. That's just the way it's supposed to be. Just seven years of school. Then job. Then life. Seven years is nothing. So long as he keeps studying. After seven years, he can find a job where no one will hiss behind his back about how his family are cowards who refused to pick a side. Maybe the whispers will die down by then? Unlikely. More likely is that something else will replace them. If he keeps his head down, whatever replaces them will not be worse, not in respect to him.

Just keep his head down.

And now lift it again. Look his parents in the eye when they say goodbye. Ignore the sudden chill as they pat him on the shoulder, saying their farewells. He bites his lip, nervous, but promptly stops as he feels his father's eyes on him.

Image is everything. If he shows even the slightest hint of weakness, the rest of the world will swallow him up whole. He's had years of practice, practicing composure. Without composure, even if the world does not swallow him up, his own temper surely will.

Angel isn't well versed in the new world he's entering into. He's read his schoolbooks, played with his potions, by which he has actually failed with his potions, and has even uttered a few spells. Not with his wand of course, because he knows it is against the rules to practice magic outside of the vicinity of the school. Contrary to what the kids from his old school believe, Angel is not an idiot. He's read _Hogwarts, A History_.

_Magic…_

Angel has magic in him. He hadn't known all his life. Not until a barn owl flew into his window just a month or so ago. Sure, his mother called him her angel, her little spark, her little miracle, but he had thought she was simply being a mother. Mothers call their children endearing names. It is simply what they do. But there had been truth in her words, her stories. At the ripe age of ten, Angel knows he is no Sherlock Holmes, but he has figured a few tidbits of his life out.

For example, he knows his mother is-was-a Veela. He isn't sure if she is pureblooded or if the lineage had been diluted before his time, but nonetheless, that is what she is. Was. He's figured it out through the extra texts he picked up on his trip to a place called _"Diagon Alley"_. He thinks that's what it was called anyway. He also knows that the children of these magnificent creatures are most often female. Angel likes to think this makes him unique, which is very cool.

The boy doesn't know where his father fits in the realm of magic. He has no idea if the man is a wizard or a normal human, but the man does know that magic exists. Aldric escorted Angel to Diagon Alley without batting an eye at all the marvelous shops that surrounded them or the moving photographs.

He isn't certain how his father knows of magic, but he doesn't care. He does not wish to dwell on thoughts of his father, the foul man, the only person he hates. So he won't.

Instead, Angel marvels at the grand station he's just entered. King's Cross Station was superb from the outside, and yes Angel may have spent a few minutes gawking childishly, but the inside had him spinning around in wonder, trying to take everything in with the few minutes he had to spare before finding his train.

He has never been in a train station, much less a train. Planes, boats and cars yes, but that is the extent of his forms of transportation.

When his eyes catch sight of a clock, a beautiful clock, they go wide.

_No. No. Nonononono!The train leaves in ten minutes! Oh no! I spent too much time taking in the architecture! Stupid!_

Pulling the ticket from one of his bags he begins to panic.

_What in the world? Platform 9 3/4...?_

"Is this a joke?" he asks no one in particular while hurrying along.

He'd never been to a train station, so he can't be sure, but he's never heard of gates or platforms with fractions. That's just mental.

He wonders if this is all a sick joke, if he's being pranked. Is someone filming his reaction from a place unseen? Is his father in on it? He wouldn't doubt it. His mind gathers in that place he rarely allows it to, where his negativity is stored and he's forced to ask why on God's green Earth he is stuck with the life he's been given. He can feel the tears welling up, preparing to fall. But then a shrill sound cuts through the encroaching depression: The screech of a bird.

Angel's eyes dart around until he finds a large group between platforms 9 and 10. Some of them have owls securely fastened atop their trunks. He remembers seeing owls being sold in a shop in the magic alley and decides to follow them. He remains a ways behind them and his jaw goes slack when one by one they disappear into a pillar.

"W-what the..."

A woman turns to him and he realizes he had been so preoccupied with the disappearing children that he hadn't been listening to their conversation. He's prepared to back away, maybe turn tail and run, but she smiles kindly at him and his heart aches. He has the oddest desire to hug this woman.

_"Why 'ello zere, little one,"_ she practically coos. Whoever else is with her is now paying attention to them. _"Is it you first year of 'Ogwarts?"_

Angel nods rapidly, his mouth much too dry to speak up. She's French. He was born in France. His accent is under control though, due to living most of his short life in England with a father who was born and raised here.

_"If you are nervous we can show you 'ow to enter ze platform,"_ the woman says, smiling and holding her hand out to him. When he walks forward, pushing his cart along cautioously, she plants her hand atop his head, gently running her fingers through the soft blond locks. She kneels to his eye level, careful not to rip her skirt, and whispers, _"if you would, imagine you are racing through a field. Can you do zis for me?"_

Another nod. In thatmoment Angel would do anything for her.

She stands and guides him over to the pillar, perhaps seven feet away, and rubs his back.

_"Now, close your eyes,"_ she says and he does so. _"Imagine you are with a friend. You are about to take the lead in your race. Just twelve long strides and you are ze winner. When I count to three, I want you to take a running start, keep your eyes closed, and finish your race. Vous comprenez?"_

_"Oui."_

_"Merveilleux!"_ she exclaims, clapping once to show her appreciation of foreign exchange. _"Maintenant… Une ... Deux ... Trois!"_

When Angel's feet leave the ground he doesn't feel like he's in a race. He isn't awkwardly scampering about in the massive throng of people. He isn't even in the train station. He doesn't know where his mind wanders too, but he is flying into a world that it is oh so very quiet and still. Until the slightest bit of resistance hits him and the whistle of a train alerts him to the reality he was born into; the reality that magic does exist.

Then he is flying in a completely different sense of the word.

Noticing the hurried steps of the bustling people he realizes he is flying rather late.

_Whoops?_

Albert sits down on the train, immediately curling his legs underneath him and sticking his nose into the book he brought.

He glances down at his shirt, examining his family crest. A gryphon rearing his noble head prominent on his chest. He probably should go ahead and change. More efficient this way. All alone in the compartment, just a quick change to his school uniform and then back to reading.

Always reading.

Reading is safe, reading is sound. Books cannot hurt you (not unless they are the hardback 1000 page ones that get thrown at your head). Books cannot trigger the terrible temper inherent in his family.

He pushes himself further into the corner, trying to ignore the pang of loneliness that shoots through him. It is better this way. No one would want to be friends with him anyways. It is better this way. Better to impose solitude on himself rather than let himself be rejected by others.

He does not need anyone else. It is just a leftover effect from being constantly surrounded by his family members by so long. It will pass.

It will pass.

There is no other choice.

He prepares to get to his feet, ready to change into his school robes, then back to reading, when the door to his compartment slams open with a loud bang.

He smothers a yelp as he jerks back into his corner. But he does not let himself pull up his feet, hiding the prominent crest on his chest. It is best if he gets this over with quickly.

_"Bonjour?"_ a young boy, likely Albert's age, walks in, shoving his dirty-blond hair out of his face. Upon catching sight of the other boy, he grins, his cerulean eyes lighting up, "I thought someone was in here!"

"You are not wrong." Albert juts his chin up as he gets to his feet, noticing with a hint of pleasure that he is taller than the new arrival.

The young boy makes a face, "You speak funny."

"You are one to talk." Where is that thick accent from?

"Oh, _bien sûr!"_ the boy chuckles a bit and smacks a hand to his forehead. "I guess I sound funny too."

His foreign accent and speech recedes quickly into something much more customary of someone raised in England.

"Who are you?" Albert asks, hiding his curiosity behind a mask of indifference.

"Sorry, I must seem pretty rude. I'm Angel," the blond chastises himself. He holds out a hand, prepared for a shake, his smile never fading.

Albert hesitates upon seeing the hand, his mask perfectly concealing the nervousness rushing through his veins. Was this really a good idea? His parents had never mentioned this social custom coming up. Or if they had, he couldn't remember.

Making a decision, he lightly grips the younger boy's hand and gives it a slight shake.

"Albert. Albert...Darling."

He hates having to say his last name. It was so...girly, and not to mention people hate his family.

This boy would too.

"Wow, what a cute name! My last name is Chevalier, did I forget to mention that? Heh, I think I did. It's not a very good name in my opinion. Anyway, it's nice to meet you," Angel babbles as he releases his hold on the boy. He doesn't want to make him uncomfortable with his tendencies to be too physical. He's been told people don't appreciate being hugged and having their hand held by a stranger. Unfortunately for Angel, every single person on the Hogwarts Express is a stranger.

Lacking the hesitation anyone else would have shown, Angel tucks his trunk overhead and takes the seat across from the one Albert had previously been occupying. Gesturing for Albert to sit, Angel resists the urge to open his mouth and say anything that would get him kicked out.

Albert just stares at the other boy. He had never seen anyone so forward. Also...why had the boy not reacted to his last name? It would be too much to hope that he truly was that ignorant. If he is, arrival at Hogwarts would soon change that.

"What are you doing?" He forces out a deadpan, cocking an eyebrow at the other... no, Angel.

Angel's brow rises more as a natural reflex than anything else. Before he can answer a few people pass by the door he only now realizes he's left open, stopping to enter but retreating and whispering the moment they see Albert. Standing, he brushes pass Albert to close the door and hops back into his seat.

"I'm sitting," he says with a hint of snark. "I thought that much was obvious."

He hopes his tone isn't offensive. Mother always said not to be rude but sometimes Angel can't seem to activate his word filter.

Albert's eyebrow twitches. Was this boy really that dense? Most people would at least _question_ the fact that no one wanted to stick around.

"I can see that, but why here?" His voice is stern, an automatic response to the tone Angel was taking. He had to give him a chance to make his escape.

"It's as good a place as any, right? And no one else was in here, so aside from disturbing your reading I didn't think I'd be doing too much harm." Angel shrugs, silently hoping the train will start moving. He's overflowing with energy and his stomach hasn't stopped doing these odd flips every time he remembers this isn't a dream. Then his brows almost disappear beneath his bangs in alarm, "unless your friends are coming soon? Am I in someone's spot?"

His eyes dart around, he's ten and small, and assuming that anyone else who enters is his age they wouldn't be too large. A lot of them could fit, right? If not he could sit on the ground. Or go somewhere else? But he likes this compartment. It's quiet and cozy, perfect for conversation.

Albert closes his eyes. It looks like he will have to...educate the other boy himself. Time to put on the face of the young lord.

He lets himself lounge on the seat behind him, abandoning his normally ramrod-stiff posture. His eyes grow half-lidded as he looks at the other boy with boredom.

"You really are just a Muggle, are you not?" Albert speaks sardonically, stopping just short of downright offensive, but toeing the line, "You know nothing about this world. Including where you should and should not be."

"I have no idea what a _Muggle_ is," Angel makes a face at the word. It isn't cute at all, in fact it sounds kind of mean with the tone Albert is taking, but Angel let's it pass because he must not have made a very good first impression. Perhaps he can impress the other boy. "But I'm part Veela."

Relaxing a bit, Angel leans back into the corner, kicking his legs onto the seat and fussing with his bangs. As an afterthought, hoping some kind of good will come out of it, he adds, "I actually don't know much about any of this. Aside from what I've read in books. Have you read _'Hogwarts, A History'_? It's fascinating!"

Albert's eyebrows twitch, again, strongly desiring to disappear into his hairline. Part Veela...yet acting like such a Muggle. There must be some mistake.

"Pity," he continues, hating himself even more as he stares at the ceiling, "Just starting out, and you are already trying to make friends with the wrong sort of people."

Crush him. The sooner the better. Better for the both of them.

Remove all pity, all mercy.

Just crush him.

"The wrong sort?" Angel tilts his head, mimicking a puppy. "I don't think that's true."

Angel idly fingers the hair clips in his pocket before removing one with a small blue flower and pinning back a section of his hair that is particularly annoying. He mulls over Albert's words for a few seconds.

"You sound pretty ominous, but if you really didn't want me here you wouldn't have made an effort to shake my hand in the first place."

Albert cannot stop the flinch. Shoot, he should have guessed that the handshake was the wrong move. He rises to his feet and stomps over to the other boy, pulling him to his feet as well. Pale blue eyes stare angrily into shocked, darker ones.

"Look, I can see that you are new here, that there are things you do not know, such as the Great War, and who was on which side and all that. However, you had best learn fast who make good friends and who do not. You see this?" He jerks a finger towards the crest embroidered proudly on his shirt, "You hear my last name, Darling?" His voice grows more and more ugly, "My family refused to pick a side in the war, we locked ourselves away from both sides, and so we are considered traitors to both. The only worse person you could try to befriend is the child of one of You-Know-Who's inner circle. You get that? I am trying to do you a favor, brat. Now get out of here."

He releases the other boy's collar and stalks back to his seat, grabs his book and hides his face in it, willing himself to ignore the boy. Ignore him, and pray he leaves. Pray he leaves before it is too late...

Calm down. Cool the temper before he does something he will regret.

Angel can't say that wasn't surprising. And more than a little frightening. Angel has never been looked at with such rage. There was something else there as well, something familiar. But he won't touch that. Not just yet. He isn't physically injured though, and aside from his hair getting a little loose and his clothes a little rumpled, he is perfectly fine.

With a heavy sigh Angel straightens his blue hoodie and promptly takes his seat once more. He'll probably anger Albert again, but it isn't his place to judge people and he doesn't feel like he should be in the position to do so in the first place. Adjusting his bangs once more Angel leans back and stares at the book Albert is using as a shield. He smiles a little at that. Such a childish thing to do. And he thinks Angel is the brat?

"Sorry," Angel says perhaps a little shakier than he means to. He steadies his voice and steels himself, just in case he is once again on the receiving end of Albert's wrath, but never drops his cheerful persona. "But I don't want you to do me any favors. I've read about the Great War and I don't really see how that's any of my business. I wasn't even born yet. If your family decided to lock you all away isn't that a good thing? I mean, they were just trying to protect the people they care about, right? My mum would have done the same thing if we were around when all that stuff was going down. And I don't really think you should be worried about that either.

"Anyway, the trains already moving, and my butt has already imprinted on this seat. So unless my voice is annoying and my face is all that ugly, I think I'll stay where I am thank you."

With that said Angel pulls one end of a long string of multicolored blue yarn from his pocket and winds it around the fingers on his left hand.

"You really shouldn't worry about what other people think, you know. My mum says as long as you aren't hurting anyone else all that matters most is your own happiness, so being selfish is okay sometimes."

Angel flinches at the use of her words, but it's alright. She would want him to make friends. She would want him to quote her. His mum would want him to indulge.

Just a little is fine.

Just a little.

Albert keeps quiet, biting hard on the inside of his cheek as an attempt to forget about the guilt attempting to eat away at him.

He should not have done that. He should not have lost his temper. It only hurts people when that happens. He knows better.

But he cannot say anything; he cannot allow himself to say anything. The last thing he wants is for the kid to suddenly think they are friends.

But he cannot just leave it like this.

If only the boy would just LEAVE!

The silence stretches on. And on. And on...

"I bet you are Hufflepuff."

Angel's eyes, focused on his stringy creation, slowly raise in the direction of the voice.

He could not take it anymore. It was just so uncomfortable.

"Ravenclaw and Slytherin would have left by now. Ravenclaw would have known who I was and what it means, and Slytherin thinks too much of themselves to bother sticking around when it is not to their benefit. You don't strike me as brave or foolhardy enough to be a Gryffindor, and they would leave too. They might stick around a bit to prove that they are not scared of me, but they would definitely yell back by now. All that remains is Hufflepuff."

He shut his mouth tight. Albert cannot allow himself to talk anymore, or else...or else the boy might actually think that he is being nice.

Angel idly winds the yarn around his fingers, tightening and weaving when appropriate. He fights to hide the giddy smile trying to spread across his face.

"I don't get angry easily," Angel hums. "And when I am out of sorts I find ways to calm myself down. Being yelled at is something new for me, but hey, I like new experiences. Now I know how it feels. If that makes me a Hufflepuff then I suppose I'm fine with that. Power to the 'Puffs."

Finally finished with his creation Angel ties the ends together and examines the varying shades of blue woven into a lei. Standing, he takes a few steps over toward Albert and drapes the lei around his neck with a smile.

"Sorry. From what I gather it's technically Ravenclaw colors. Unless you get sorted into Ravenclaw, in which case, yay." Angel nods and sits down to start up another one, this one with two strings of white and gold. "So, you think I'll be sorted into Hufflepuff? What about you?"

Albert just stares at the other boy over the edge of his book. He turned the full terror of his temper on him...and he gives him a freaking present?!'

"You are weird."

"You say weird, I say unique," Angel says, brushing it off easily. "Are you avoiding my question?"

His cerulean eyes reveal the amusement behind his words. They're wide, expecting. So innocent and vulnerable. How is that even possible?

"I did not realize that I needed to answer," Albert's head went up high as he gazed down his nose at the other boy, "I thought it quite obvious that I belong to Slytherin. Or have you not read that far in your little book and gotten to the characteristics of the Houses?"

"I've finished the book. It took me forever, what with the large lake just a mile or so away from home, but I did finish." Angel huffed at himself for tangling the yarn a bit. "But I'm not sure what to believe when it comes to magic. And I don't know you very well, so I couldn't judge you even if I wanted to."

Well, that was certainly interesting. Despite himself, Albert cannot help but feel a little intrigued. He did not think that he could ever find someone like this little boy...no, bad idea, back up. People change. They change quite easily.

"Yes, well, you may stay here until we reach Hogwarts. But I expect you to leave me alone when we arrive at the school. You will not do yourself any good hanging around the likes of me..."

A loud noise cuts him off, a yell from outside the compartment. His eyebrows furrow as he reaches for his wand case. It is absolutely imperative that his wand never be broken, as the core had basilisk skin and liquid Boomslang venom. While the skin is valuable, the venom is incredibly deadly. Hence the case.

He snaps open the clasp as he steps towards the door.

Angel is behind him in a second, wand at the ready. The moment the door is open he pokes his head out and the sound of fearful shouts and heavy footfalls are heard.

Platinum blond and black fly by them like a blur but a flash of color zips by and hits the kid who ran pass them in the legs. When he falls he falls hard. His body thumps loudly the moment he hits the floor and a pained groan passes through his lips. He struggles with the curse binding his legs together while four upperclassmen approach. The one in the middle high-fives his cohort on the right and they chuckle darkly.

"Watch it, Malfoy. Bit clumsy, eh?"

Angel frowns. That wasn't funny at all. He could have gotten seriously injured.

"Leave me alone," the white-blond-haired boy says solemnly.

Albert hesitates. On one hand, he really wants to let off some steam. He is clenching his wand so tightly that his nails are digging into his skin. And as a bonus, it might successfully scare off this annoyance. This_"Angel"._

But on the other hand, this is Scorpius Malfoy in front of him. Albert does not think he deserves this treatment, but due to everything his father has done to make up for his family's actions during the war, Scorpius might eventually be accepted by society.

If he, a member of the Darling family, comes to his rescue, he will just do more damage, and drag the other boy down even further.

If it were anyone else, nothing Albert could do would damage them too badly... but Scorpius is different.

What should he do?

_"Expelliarmus."_ Why is his voice saying that? Why is he interfering? Now they are looking at him, disgust visible in their eyes. Even the young Malfoy is looking at him with horror.

Well, if he is to be seen as the monster, he had best start acting the part...

Scorpius is shocked above anything else. He wasn't expecting anyone to aid him. Laughter, jeering, more pain. That's what he thought was coming. But this boy, he thought him a Weasley for a fraction of a second, but recognized the terrifying look in his eyes as Darling.

Why is a Darling rescuing him?

The Darlings only care for themselves. Grandfather had called them cowards and traitors to Wizardkind. Scorpius just doesn't get it.

His eyes widen even further, jaw dropping when the blond he doesn't recognize steps in front of him and points his wand in Scorpius's aggressors direction.

_"Flipendo!"_ he shouts, his arm moving widely, too wide, but aimed perfectly at one of the upperclassmen's chest. He flies back a ways but isn't seriously injured. Just dazed.

When the third reaches for his wand Scorpius finds his wits and swiftly pulls his wand out, his wand arm moving rapidly but in perfect form.

_"Flipendo Tria!" _He almost whispers it because spells aren't more effective if you yell, that's only urban legend, and he doesn't want a sore throat later. The spell effectively throws the final bully back and knocks him out.

"You'll pay for this!" the upperclassmen threaten as they run away. Scorpious is not impressed. However, "power in numbers" has a new meaning to him.

It wasn't showing off, he doesn't care about that, but that first _Flipendo_ wasn't very powerful. And father had told Scorpius that this would happen, that he would need to stand up for himself. He probably also needs to, well, stand.

He holds onto the wall while the leg-locker curse limits his movement. Struggling to lift himself from the floor he almost manages before sliding down. He can do this. Scorpius can do this.

"Hey," he hears and flinches. He looks up and the blond boy who cast the weaker spell is smiling brightly, holding out a hand. He asks, "Need some help there?"

Scorpius switches from looking at the offered hand and the boy's face.

"This is a joke," he says simply, accusingly. "I don't need any more trouble today."

"Trouble? No no, I just want to help you up," he says, eyes wide and quite doe-like. When Scorpius still eyes him suspiciously he rolls his eyes lightheartedly and pulls him up by the arms. He's a bit shorter than Scorpius is and tucks himself under his arm in order to steady him and then guides him through the door he'd come from. "By the way, I'm Angel. Now, how could you not trust me with a name like that?"

"I imagine that he can quite easily," the Darling boy speaks up, clicking his wand case closed, turning his head to look Scorpius right in the eyes, "Do not get me wrong, Malfoy. I have not helped you at all. In fact, I imagine that I have only made things worse. I just needed someone to take out my annoyance on."

He turned his head to address the blond boy (Angel was it?), "If you absolutely MUST befriend someone, try this fellow. I imagine you will be significantly more successful. Collect your things, and leave me be."

"Yes, I understand," Scorpius says with a nod. "I will take my leave now."

While attempting to push himself up to a standing position Scorpius is tugged back down. Angel pats his shoulder but is looking at the Darling boy.

"Don't be so insensitive, Al," he scolds the boy and wags a finger at him. "This guy here was just attacked by a bunch of morons and they cursed him. We have to help him be... uhh... Uncursed!"

"N-no. Truly, this is unnecessary. I can-"

"Nope, we'll help you. Now, does anyone know the counter-curse?" Angel looks at Albert expectantly. He is new to magic, after all. They can't expect him to know such a thing. When it comes to theory versus execution Angel is... Well he's more of a take action kid but still, he has no idea about counter-curses.

Albert looks down his nose at the other boys, condescending expression on his face, even as pity fills his heart.

He cannot help them. He cannot even really help himself.

But...it is JUST a counter-curse, is it not? He is allowed to do that, right?

Avoiding their eyes, keeping as quiet as possible, he pulls out his wand (knowing that he looks terrifying as he does so, but he cannot help it) and whispers the counter-curse, and then leaves them. Leaves them sitting in the compartment as he shoulders his bag.

He has to go change. They will be arriving at Hogwarts soon. The rest of his luggage will be brought up to the school.

"Al..." Angel trails off, his sunny disposition faltering. "I don't think he likes me very much."

Scorpius debates whether he should attempt to comfort the boy or tell him the truth. Before he can the blond is tearing up. It is disconcerting and Scorpius wishes the ground would swallow him whole. His eyes dart a bit nervously from the despondent lad and the open door, just waiting for him to pass through once more.

"Sorry," he says, wiping away his tears. "I cry easy. Over dumb things."

"It isn't-well that's-I mean..." Scopius can't stop the little groan that escapes him. "Perhaps if you weren't so forward?"

"Yeah," Angel agrees, scrubbing the last of his tears away. "But I've learned that waiting around brings me nothing but pain."

"I see."

It's silent for a while before they decide to change, Scorpius borrowing a uniform from Angel what with his trunk still with the bullies who attacked him. Afterward, Angel's grin comes easily once again.

"What?" Scorpius asks, a little uncomfortable with how the other boy is grinning like a loon.

Also...they were sitting together on the train to first year. Did this make them friends? Scorpius doesn't think that he wants this weirdo to be his first friend...but if everyone else treats him like those bullies from earlier then does he really have much of a choice?

Well, if this DOES make them friends, might as well make the best of it, right?

"Nothing really." Angel goes about packing his things away haphazardly. "I'm just optimistic. I think it's going to be a good year."

When the train stops Angel pats Scorpius's back. His lost enthusiasm returned, heart pounding against his rib cage, he releases a deep sigh and wraps an arm around the other boy's shoulder. He's decided to find Albert later. They must have some classes together, he reasons.

"So, Malfoy, right? Don't worry, Malfoy, I won't let those bullies get you again."

With that promise made Angel nods. He's going to make sure no one lays their hands on his new friend.

Scorpius isn't so sure how this other boy plans to protect him (nor is he sure that he likes the idea of BEING protected), but it is better than nothing.

One friend is better than none.

Unwillingly, his mind went to the thought of the Darling boy. He looked to be the same age as them. According to Scorpius's father this would likely be the first time he had ever stepped outside of Darling territory.

And with the animosity still emanating from the war, it was likely that this boy will have an even harder time than him.

Malfoys don't forget their debts.

"Angel," he spoke up, "Let's go find that Darling boy. I need to thank him."

"Yeah, sure," Angel agrees easily enough. "Sounds good."

They make their way out of the train, ushered along by prefects. Their eyes scan the large crowd for a head of bright crimson hair, and they've found a whole flock of them, but none belong to the boy they're searching for. Angel even gets on his tiptoes, feeling absolutely ridiculous and cursing his vertically challenged body.

In the back corner of the crowd, Albert watches with amusement as two blond heads bob about in the mass of first-years.

Are they...are they looking for him? He bites his cheek, willing himself to banish the thought. Unlikely. Even if Angel was so inclined, he was sure that the Malfoy boy would talk him out of it.

Unless he underestimated his intelligence... no, he doubted it. They must be looking for someone else.

He tugs his cloak tighter around himself, willing for it to make him anonymous to the crowd. It really is too bad that it does not cover his head. Few people have such a distinct red hair color without being a Weasley. Granted, he is related to them, all pureblood families are connected in some manner. But still, the red color without the obvious Weasley features is suspicious.

They are coming closer now. It is time to make a decision. Either he must step forward or fade back. Now that he knows they are there, possibly searching for him, he must decide whether or not he wishes to be found.

He finds himself slouching his shoulders, turning away his face, and attempting to fade back in the shadows as he tries his best to pull his cloak's collar up to shield his head just slightly...

There's a hand pulling lightly at his cloak and the distinct sound of metal clinking. The blond fool is gripping him, preventing him from slithering back into darkness. He's still grinning after everything and holding Malfoy's arm as well.

"See, I told you I'd find him for you," he cheers, releasing his hold on both boys. "Sorry, Darling. I'm not that easy to get rid of."

And like the naïve child he is, Angel bounces on the balls of his feet and, for once, shuts his mouth.

Albert immediately wipes the shocked look off of his face, hiding once again behind his impassive mask. Then the second half of what Angel had said sinks in.

"What did you call me?"

Angel's muscles tense. Had he said something wrong? Done something wrong? He really needs to stop offending people.

"I-uhh, Darling? Isn't that your name?" Angel stutters. He's never stuttered before but now seems like an appropriate time. He doesn't realize he's doing it but his hand is reaching out for something. When his fingers wrap around Scorpius's wrist it still doesn't register. His grip is loose but it's all the comfort he needs to relax.

Scorpius decides to take pity on the young boy considering that the Darling boy appears too shocked to respond.

"Angel," he spoke softly so as not to draw attention from the first years around them, "Calling someone 'darling' is considered a fairly intimate form of address. I am sure that our friend here would rather you not call him by that."

Albert seems to finally regain his mind, "I do not recall ever becoming your friend."

Slate grey eyes stare firmly into ice blue, both sides refusing to back down.

"Malfoys never forget a debt," Scorpius juts out his chin stubbornly, "And as far as I can see, you can't exactly afford to be picky about who becomes your friend."

"I do not need friends," is the tense response.

Liar. The lies hurt. Albert always hated lying. Honesty was the best policy.

But technically it is not a lie. He does not _NEED_ them, he can survive without them.

But he wants friends. He really does.

"Who said I was giving you a choice?" Scorpius smirks at him, "But hey, if you want to take the hard route, I'm sure this little puppy here wouldn't mind following you around until you give in."

True to his new nickname Angel whines, his eyes wide and inviting.

"He's right you know. I'm an attached little puppy," Angel exclaims as if he's proud to be called a dog. "And I stand by my earlier comment about the handshake. You sealed your fate."

His arm wraps around Scorpius's as if he's done it a million times before.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" a deep booming voice called just a short distance away. A rather large man holding a lamp waved the first years over toward him. Behind him a dark, narrow path leads away from the train station. "Firs' years follow me! Mind yer step, now!"

"Wow," Angel whispers in amazement. "Wh-who is that? He's so tall!"

He isn't afraid of the dark, nor the giant of a man leading them Lord only knows where. Instead, where there should be fear, Angel is only mystified and compelled to follow whoever leads him to where the magic is.

They hang back so as to stick to the back of the group, ignoring the strange glances directed their way, before following.

"That would be Hagrid," Scorpius responds, "He's half-giant."

"Really?" Albert spins his head around before he regains his composure and returns to ignoring them.

"You're actually really excited, aren't you?" Angel's smirk, hidden by the darkness, grows.

The lights up ahead catch his attention. At first glance they appeared to be floating above the water but on closer inspection they are lanterns, much like Hagrid's, swaying with the motion of the boats they were attached to.

"Why would you say that?" Albert was once again looking down his nose at the shorter boys.

"Oh, come on. You heard the word giant and now your head probably needs treatment for the whiplash you got." Angel has trouble holding back the bout of laughter trying to break free but he succeeds.

Most of the boats are full by the time they get to them, the penalty of being at the back of any line, so Angel hops in the empty one closest to them.

Albert looks away from them as he gracefully takes his seat in the boat, "I do not know what you are talking about."

"Come on, Al, it's not like you're fooling anyone," Scorpius laughs as he sits down across from them.

"Do not address me by that nickname."

Scorpius just makes a face at him, "Albert is too stuffy of a name. I'll give you a pick. Either you let me call you Al, or I call you by your surname."

Albert turns his head to stare down the other boy, judging whether or not he was serious.

"Aw, come on. If you get to use his last name then so do I." Angel huffs out a breath and pouts. "Darling is such a cute name."

Angel twists his body so he's facing the boys instead of the dark lake and leans toward the others.

"Now that I think about it, I only know your last name, Malfoy. What should I call you?"

"My name is Scorpius. Scorpius Malfoy. However, you may call me Scor," he smirks at Albert, "So, Al Darling, what shall it be?"

The tension is palpable in the boat as two strong wills clash.

The taller boy backs down first, turning his face away, "Al will be adequate, I suppose."

Scorpius laughs, "Too bad! I think I prefer Darling!"

"Scor, huh?" Angel tests the name and tilts his head right then left thoughtfully. Mere seconds later he's beaming at Scorpius Malfoy. "I like it! Scor and Darling."

Angel doesn't allow them time to respond to his assigned names for them, they've already been filed away in his brain. Instead he goes from the subject of names to how much fun they'll have to how ecstatic he is and back to names. "Oh, right. You guys can call me Angel I suppose. There really isn't a great way to shorten that. Guess you could call me Angie if you wanted. The kids in my neighborhood used to call me that. Tease me really, but it never bothered me much. I don't really see how having a girly name is a bad thing. Aren't we supposed to be past that already? Or puppy is fine too. I like puppies. Just don't call me by my last name or might just deck you." He ends his tirade of naming nonsense with another smile, this one a bit too forced. He's never actually hit anyone before but Angel is highly adaptable.

"Tch!" the newly named "Darling" twitches, "You are a little bit of a hypocrite, are you not? Insisting on calling me by my surname and yet refusing to be called by your own."

He turns away to look out over the lake to the rapidly approaching castle, bracing his arm against his knee and leaning his face against his hand.

"I am." Angel isn't going to deny that he is indeed being a hypocrite, but he certainly isn't going to go into detail. "But your surname is cute. Mine isn't. I doubt you hate yours as much as I hate mine."

Angel follows his gaze and his eyes light up. All negative thoughts are washed away once he takes in the large castle. _Hogwarts, A History_ had photographs, moving ones, but for some reason he hadn't expected it to seem so... So massive. And it truly was a sight to behold. Like with the train station, Angel gawked and cooed at the impressive structure, wishing for the umpteenth time he had been born with the gift of art. How he would love to spend hours, days even, trying to capture its magnificence. Alas, he is the worst artist ever and can do no such thing. So he decides to spend all of his free time exploring every single nook and cranny of his new home.

Albert stands a little away from the rest of the first-years, his acquaintances flanking him as they watch them go up to have the Sorting Hat placed on their little heads.

As he watches his nerves increase, though none of it shows on his face.

What if the Hat rejected him? Yeah, it was stupid. He had gotten a letter after all, but still. Who knew who addressed all of the letters? Maybe they did not understand why he was a poor choice.

The first few names go by unnoticed by the trio until one of them are called. "Angel Chevalier," the little blond boy pranced away from his newly acquired friends and up to the chair.

Hufflepuff. Definitely.

Angel isn't nervous when he takes his place before the school. He is quite the opposite actually. Joy bubbles from his gut and he knows it shows on his face. Angel can feel the smile stretching wider than ever before.

He doesn't care what House he is placed in because in his opinion they are all magical. Gryffindor: Brave and chivalrous. Hufflepuff: Loyal and hard working. Ravenclaw: Intelligent and witty. Slytherin: Ambitious and cunning. Really, no matter what House the Sorting Hat places him in, Angel will be over the moon.

When the old hat, which he fears is falling apart and assumes smells, is lowered onto his head ceremoniously, it barely rests there for a second before announcing to the world in its booming voice that "HUFFLEPUFF" is where he will be making his home.

The Hufflepuffs welcome him gladly once he reaches their table with cheers, hugs and fist bumps. He is the first to take a first year's place at their table.

The other names are a bit of a blur. Albert would hate to admit that he does not pay nearly enough attention to the other First-Year students and their sorting.

Then, it is his turn.

"Albert Darling..."

Perhaps it is his own imagination, but the entire Great Hall goes silent as effectively as if someone had cast the silencing charm over them all.

And then the whispers begin.

Albert refuses to listen. He realizes that if he lets himself listen, then it will most definitely shake his composure.

He must stay calm. He must stay calm at all costs.

He finally reaches the hat, after what feels like miles of walking.

He reaches the chair, sits down, and the hat barely touches a hair on his head before the Sorting Hat screams out, "SLYTHERIN!"

Albert waits for the hat to be taken away again, and steps down from the pedestal. He walks over to the Slytherin table, and does his best to ignore how the others visibly scooted away from his chosen spot.

The only cheering is coming from the opposite end of the hall. More specifically, the Hufflepuff table. That blond is awfully daft and now Albert is no longer the only one who realizes this fact. He can spot Scorpius though, attempting to hide a grin behind his fist and failing. Mortified does not begin to describe him at that particular moment.

This is going to be a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG seven years.

Back in his dorm Albert perches himself on the edge of his bed, resisting the urge to lounge like some plebeian.

Darlings don't "lounge". At least, not in public.

His bed is in a distant corner of the dorm, the farthest away from the roaring fireplace, and closest to the window that would be completely frosted over, come winter.

It's not like Albert worries about it that much.

He likes the cold.

He sits there, reading, as he hears the voices around him quiet as his fellow students start to drop off to sleep.

It's only after the last curtain is tied around the bed that Albert too dresses for bed, throws back the covers, and allows sleep to take him.

Long seven years indeed.

* * *

**AN: Greetings fellow students. Before you begin the application process there are six rules we would like you all to follow.**

**1. When filling out your application please be as descriptive as you can. We would like to get a good sense of your character and part of that is by how much detail you, the creator, can provide.**

**2. Minor information is subject to change. Certain pieces of your character, such as age, may be altered for purposes that involve moving the plot along.**

**3. We have the right to refuse any character we do not think fits into the universe we've created. In addition, please do not send angry messages concerning refusal of your characters. We will either not read it or use your hate fire to roast our marshmallows and make a Hogwarts feast.**

**4. Do not be overly indulgent with a character. For example, writing that "everyone likes or loves him/her" is not something that is possible. No two people love exactly the same exact things, and that includes people. And no one is good at everything.**

**On that note, some characters may not be of the "main party" but will be used as background/sidekick characters who show up often or every once in a while.**

**5. All profiles must be sent to us via PM. If any profile is posted as review it will not be accepted. We cannot stress this enough.**

**6. Have fun! :D**

**Ryder: I apologize for Fleur's accent. I wrote that part, so anything overly or under exaggerated is all my fault.**


	2. Superhero(I Am Gryffindor,Hear Me Roar!)

Hey, y'all! This is MaliceArchangela here! Before we bring you the second chapter, we're going to do some short intros to the characters and their first impressions of Hogwarts. But before that, just letting you know that the chapter title for the Gryffindors is "Superhero" by Simon Curtis.

Also, I know little to none in the way of German, so if I make any mistakes, please, let me know.

And to those of you just tuning in, we DO still have spots open! However, NekoRy and I are looking for people who are NOT Purebloods! Our Pureblood quota is FILLED! Not to mention, we have plenty of Gryffindors and Slytherins. What we REALLY need right now are HUFFLEPUFFS and RAVENCLAWS, which is an EXCELLENT way to create an awesome character!

So, please, submit.

So, let's begin!

* * *

**Clarissa Creevey - C1nd3r5**

Glossy dark brown pigtails bounce on her shoulders as she walks through King's Cross Station, the only thing keeping her from bumping into other passengers the firm grip of her father on her arm.

Magic is real. It's something that she never dared to think could be true, not even in her wildest dreams.

And her father was part of it? Amazing! Why he EVER would've given it up, Clarissa never thought she could understand. When her letter had come, her father had had a sad look on his face, and he told her that he had hoped that he'd never have to deal with this world again, especially after the war.

Her mom had fainted away. Actually fainted! Clarissa had always thought that it was just something women did in the period dramas her mother watched on TV, but it didn't seem to be so.

She hadn't been very happy when she left. Dad had said that he would talk to her, get her to calm down and come back.

Clarissa hopes so. She misses her mom.

But Dad says that Mom should be back before she comes home from school.

She hopes so.

"Clarissa, sweetheart?"

She tilts her head up to look at him, "Yes, Daddy?"

"I need you to do something crazy for me."

"What?"

"You see that wall over there?"

She sees it.

"We're going to run at it."

"Won't we crash?"

"You're going to have to trust me that we won't. Alright?" He hands off control of her trolley to her, and gestures for her to run ahead of him.

She does as he says, charging headlong into the solid wall.

Only, it's not so solid.

Her brown eyes go wide as she takes in everyone around her. All of them, every single one...they're wizards.

It's amazing.

Her dad helps her get her trunk on the train, handing off Arthur in his large cage once she has a good grip. He kisses her on the forehead, and backs away to let her finish boarding, and to let other students get aboard.

She almost feels as though she's skipping down the hallway of the train (perhaps if her luggage wasn't weighing her down, she WOULD be) and she steals glances into each of the compartments as she passes.

Quite a few of them are already filled by groups of older students. They're all laughing and talking to each other.

Probably exchanging stories about their summers.

She can't help but feel that soon, that will be HER.

Finally, she finds a compartment that is empty except for one other person with short, messy, dark brown hair. And this person looks to be a first-year, just like her.

Eagerly, she pushes open the door to greet him. Hopefully he'll let her stay.

* * *

**Crispin Aubrey - reven228**

It really is a pity that Hogwarts isn't connected to the Floo Network. It would have made more sense instead of Opa side-along-apparating them here. Vater and Mutter were too busy to come, but he doesn't mind.

It is nice to travel with Opa, especially when his eyes light up at the familiarity of it all. Opa definitely knew his way around Kings Cross Station. And he had looked with fondness at the Hogwarts Express before leaving his grandson to find his compartment.

Crispin had considered himself fairly lucky to find a compartment to himself. Not that he doesn't want to meet new people, but he figured that a lot of the other students his own age are still saying goodbye to their parents. It doesn't hurt to establish himself and wait for the friends to come to him.

"Hullo! Is anyone sitting here? Oh no, am I bothering you? Sorry, I'm really new to this!" a happy girl with dark brown pigtails came into the compartment, talking a mile a minute with a broad grin on her face, "I just noticed that you look like you might be a first-year too, and maybe you might be like me, and not know anyone here either, so maybe you might, I don't know, want to be friends. Not if you don't want to, of course, but we could, y'know, sit together, at least until we get to Hogwarts, or you find a new seat-partner-"

A large grin spreads across his face as he starts laughing. It's a loud sound that fills the entire compartment and stops her words from their continuous flow out of her mouth, making her freckled cheeks flush pink.

"Please, come in," he gestures at the seat across from him. She nods at him as she perches her owl cage on the seat, and then returns to lug her trunk further into the compartment. He gets to his feet to help her store the container above her head, and then settles back down into his seat as she bounces on the spot across from him.

"I like your accent," she tells him, grinning at him, the pink flush still in her cheeks.

"Thank you, I like yours too."

"Nah," she waved it off, "Mine's boring. Everyone here has it."

"Well, everyone back home has mine," he leans back easily in his chair, "No big deal."

"Well, where's home for you?" she leans forward in her seat, a rapt expression on her face.

"Germany."

"Ooh! Say something in German," a scared look appears on her face as she claps her hands onto her mouth. Her next words are mumbled, "I'm sorry, that was rude, wasn't it?"

"Nein, es ist gut. Ich denke, dass ich schon jetzt an, richtig?"

Her brown eyes get even wider.

"That. Is. So. Cool!"

They both laugh there.

"My name's Crispin Aubrey," he leans forward, extending a hand, "Son of duelist, Alexander Aubrey."

"Clarissa Creevey," she shakes the extended hand, "Daughter of probably no one you know."

"New generation wizard?"

"Ye...no!"

"Yeno?" okay, now he's confused, "Is this some English slang?"

"No, I'm sorry!" she laughs, "I had just forgot that my dad was a wizard."

"Halfblood, then?"

"I...don't know."

Oh dear, now she looks sad.

So he shrugs and decides to let it drop.

"Does it really matter? You're here now, aren't you?"

She is smiling again, "Yeah, you're right, Cris."

Cris? He kind of likes that.

"Of course I am...Rissa," he reaches across to lightly tap her on the shoulder.

"Ow..." she mutters, rubbing her shoulder lightly. Then she smirks and reaches to smack him on the shoulder.

"Ow..." she mutters again, rubbing her knuckles, "What are you made of anyways, rocks?"

"Are you okay?" he can't help but laugh, especially at the pouting look on her face.

She grins again, "I am not okay. I am actually AWESOME! Perfectly great! I am like the sun! I shall always rise again!" She stands up as she talks, as though the power of her words is enough to pull her to her feet, "I am like the mighty phoenix, regenerating from the ashes of my defeat! I shall get stronger, and I shall hit you and you will feel it!"

"That's actually a pretty violent promise to make. I'm rather hurt now."

Her face turns dark red again, and she plops back down in her seat quickly, "Sorry..."

"Hey," he's serious now, "NEVER apologize. Never regret anything you do, or else you risk living a life only filled with regrets."

"That's actually pretty deep."

He shrugs, "I try."

He glances at the time on the clock above him in the compartment, "We should be arriving at the school soon. We had better change into our uniforms."

She nodded, and both of them gathered their uniform bags. Knowing what Opa would've done, he insists that she could have the compartment, and he'd just go change in the boy's room.

She tries to argue, but he just turns around and leaves, closing the door behind him.

He finds the restroom fairly quickly when he sees another boy his age exit it. He nods to the boy with jet black hair as they pass each other.

* * *

**Jonathan Kim/Kim Chanyeol - Hell Devil 13**

He nods his head to the other boy that passes by him in the hallway as he makes his way back to his compartment. By his calculations, they are fast approaching the school. It was a good time to change, leaving him plenty of time to adjust to the long flowing robes.

Despite his parents' pureblood status, they always preferred to wear Muggle clothes at home. They are simply more comfortable, and are significantly less flammable.

"Rosalia," he greets the other member of his compartment (both of them were looking for solitude, and settled for just sharing with each other).

"Jonathan," she responds. He had decided that he would go by his English name, despite how funny it is to watch people stumble over his Korean name.

Both of them pull out their books, and do their best to ignore the intruding presence in the compartment.

Over the edge of his book, he analyzes her.

Her chocolate brown hair is now up in a high ponytail, rather than trailing down her back like it was before. A few strands are loose, despite the recent style, curling lightly, framing a thin but sharply structured face. She has an aura about her, a sort of "trying-too-hard-to-be-tough" look.

When she had first arrived, she had all but rushed into the compartment, slamming the door behind her as though something was chasing her.

That was around the moment that she had noticed a stranger in the compartment.

Her fists had clenched as she looked at him, and her eyes had glanced between him and the door rapidly.

Jon did what he considered the best option at the time.

He turned his attention to his book, and ignored the intruder.

After a few moments, he had heard her feet carry her and her heavy trunk over to the seat across from him.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes.

"My name's Jonathan Kim," he glanced out from behind his book, feeling it would be best to introduce himself.

"Rosalia Amaro."

That was the only response.

Jon goes back to thinking about this school, his parent's school. Though it wasn't where they had met. At school, his mom had been a Gryffindor, and his dad (freshly immigrated from Korea) had been a Slytherin.

No, they met after graduation, when they were working in the same area.

It was...after the war that had shaken the structures of the wizarding world.

Yes, after the great war, there are only a few groups that are truly isolated in the wizarding community.

And those are the prominent Death Eater families and those who sat back and refused to do anything, despite having the power to make a difference.

Amongst the latter, there was really only one family that his parents had ever told him about. Only one well-known enough for their betrayal to be this well-known.

Ah, now he's getting angry.

He focuses back on his book. Maybe the family had their reasons, but Jon has always felt that not standing up for what you think is right is a bigger betrayal. Especialy if you come out later and claim to have been against the losing side from the beginning.

Hypocrites. The lot of them.

* * *

**Rosalia Amaro - TheNightGirl**

She's bored. Incredibly bored.

Not to mention extremely annoyed that her mother was right about not packing her photo album at the very bottom of the trunk. Same with her charms text, probably the only class she was really looking forward to taking.

Instead, she is stuck with the boring "Hogwarts, a History" and really, what's the point? Pretty much anything that she wants to learn about the castle itself will become clear soon enough, right?

Her leg starts bouncing up and down, a habit that her mother has tried hard to break her of.

It probably wasn't the best idea to leave her mother with a fresh argument.

But it wasn't her fault! She's going off to learn MAGIC at LAST! Why on Earth would she want to have a last etiquette lesson? Just because her mom had another charity or something tonight, doesn't mean squat to Rosalia because she's not going to be there!

The train's starting to slow down.

That's good. The silence is starting to be suffocating.

She shoves the text back into her trunk, and grabs up Nero's basket, ignoring the slight hiss from inside. He'll forgive her soon enough.

She knows she's supposed to leave ALL luggage in the train for transportation up to the castle, but Nero gets mad if he's separated from her for long periods of time. His anger at his carrier being treated roughly is NOTHING compared to what would happen if she let him get taken from her.

She doesn't spare a glance for the Asian-looking kid that shared her compartment, so eager is she to just get off of this train.

Only one problem, once she gets off, she's stuck in a crowd of first-years, with no clue on where to go.

"First-years!" a large voice booms over the crowd, and she follows the sound to see a large bearded man herding the large group towards the lake.

She bites down a yell as two blonds shove past her, their words implying that they're looking for someone. Someone with red hair? Weasley?

She puts their words out of her head, swallowing a sigh as she finally makes it into a boat.

She arranges Nero near her feet, and primly sits (Mother would be proud), waiting for the boat to start moving.

She feels someone sit right next to her, leaning into her as she...HUGS her?

"Hey!" the girl exclaims, "Nice to meet you! I'm Renee, what's your name?"'

The girl...Renee...keeps up a running chatter for the entire trip, every now and then tossing her hair and making it fly into Rosalia's face.

Just how much hair does one girl need, anyways? Rosalia promises herself that if she ends up in the same House (Merlin forbid) as this annoying girl who seems insistent on telling her her ENTIRE life story, she's going to find an opportunity to shave her head.

And Rosalia doesn't care how many points she'd lose in the process.

That hair is coming off.

* * *

**Renee Cullen - shayvion**

She can't be happier. She had already made so many new friends! The most recent one is the girl who she thinks her name is Rosa or something, but she's not sure cuz the girl muttered it, which isn't really cute, but oh well!

She had just told the story about the time her elder brother was having trouble with his girlfriend (well, he claimed that she wasn't his girlfriend at the time, but puh-lease, he was 14 and Renee was 5, but she could SO totally tell that it was meant to be!) and she told him to write her a letter describing his feelings. He refused, so she had written the letter and sent it for him! Wasn't she such a great sister?

However, the girl (what was her name again?) hadn't liked the letter, and broke of the entire relationship (friendship, her brother claimed, HAH!), but that really wasn't _Renee's _fault. If her brother had JUST done as she told him from the beginning, they'd still be dating and she might be an aunt soon!

Yes, she has EXCELLENT advice-giving abilities, and so she HAS to make sure all of her new friends know that so they can come to her for help and she can make all of their problems go away!

She's really sad when she loses Rosa in the crowd as they get off the boats. She tries to start up a conversation with the two people with brown hair near her (one a girl and one a boy) but then this old lady comes out and starts talking to them about "Sorting".

Now she's worried. Her brother had always told her that the Sorting was a VERY scary event where this ugly hat gets set on your head and...and...

...it's starting!

The old lady (what was her name?) calls out the first thing on the list (or maybe she had called out other names before, Renee couldn't be bothered to know EVERYONE just yet, could she?), "Amaro, Rosalia."

Hey! That's her new best friend! She wants to wave to her, but everyone's so closely packed around her, that she can't move her hand above her head.

Oh no, it's worse than she had thought! The hat has a mouth! WHY IS IT TALKING?

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Rosa (who cares what that old lady says, her name is ROSA, not Rosalia) gets down with a slight smirk on her face...wait, is that all? Renee had been expecting something...well, something...more?

Is that really it?

"Aubrey, Crispin."

Okay, she probably missed more names, but this time the kid in front of her (one of the brown-haired pair) moves out of the throng of people.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Another one? Ooh! He's cute! She likes his hair.

Oh! There's another cute boy getting the hat placed on his head now! He's adorable with the prettiest blond hair and bright blue eyes!

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Creevey, Clarissa."

The other half of the pair in front of her goes to the front.

She actually looks nervous, if the way she's chewing her lip goes for anything. Poor thing! Renee decides that she's going to have to find her and let her know that she's always here to listen if she has problems!

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Ah, the little girl is smiling now! That's great!

"Cullen, Renee."

Oh wait, that's her! She pushes her way to the front, and somehow manages to keep herself from wrinkling her nose at the musty smell of that old hat.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Renee all but snatches the hat off of her head and thrusts it back to the old lady as she runs to her new table, the one hung with red and gold (Mommy always says that those colors suit her).

She sits herself right down next to Rosa, who looks away. Aw! She's so cute when she's being shy.

She pays attention to the Sorting just in time for a hush to spread over the Great Hall.

She cranes her neck trying to see what caused it.

A slight boy is walking up the steps, with dark red hair (it looks cute on him). What's wrong with him?

But before she can ask Rosa, the hat makes its decision "SLYTHERIN!"

Oh well, not her problem.

Renee admits it, she zoned out again. But then she sees a stoic-looking Asian-kid walking up to the pedestal. What did the old lady say his name was again? Kim something?

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Oh well, she'd figure it out. It's only the first day. She has plenty of time to make friends with everyone!


	3. Don't Be Shy(Growing Strong)

**Aloha, all! NekoRy here, happily bringing you the next chapter. It is named for the Cat Stevens song, "Don't be Shy".**

**Before we commence I'd like to let it be known a few Hufflepuffs, both genders and some male Ravenclaws would spice the story up a lot for us. I'm surprised at the lack of overall enthusiasm for these two Houses. There is so much potential there.**

**In any case, let us begin!**

* * *

Ellie Boyce - Enfaming4

Ellie approaches the third train car, nervously chewing at her bottom lip. Her blond hair whipping around whenever anyone moves behind her. She tucks her bangs behind her ear, that's what ma would tell her to do, and takes a step closer to the train.

"Well, go on!" ma shouts from behind.

Shoulders slumping and cheeks flushing Ellie mumbles words of frustration under her breath. Of course her ma simply laughs and that is the final straw.

Ellie launches herself onto the train, quietly swerving around a blonde boy and almost tripping over her own feet. That forces her into the arms of, well, who knows who the boy is? He's blonde with elegant features, bright blue eyes and the most amazingly soft sweater on.

Stumbling out of her thoughts, Ellie pushes herself away from the boy, who she realizes is a bit older than her and mutters a few apologies before running off. Wow, how embarrassing. As she dashes into the car nearest her, which happens to be occupied by a ginger haired girl and two dark haired boys, she can hear the giggling of girls outside.

"Wow, that girl was odd. And so rude!" the first girl says.

"Are you alright, Louis?" the second whines.

Their voices are not pleasing to the ears.

"I'm fine," the boy she assumes is Louis says calmly, almost coldly, "it was only an accident. Now, please excuse me. I need to locate my sisters."

The girls bid him farewell and Ellie resists the urge to roll her eyes. He wasn't all that handsome... Well maybe he was. In an regal sort of way.

The quiet laughter behind her reminds Ellie that she is not the only person in the car.

"Oh, I, uhh," Ellie tries to back out through the sliding door and stumbles into it instead. "Oww."

"Are you alright?" the younger or the two boys and the ginger asks. The third inhabitant only laughs harder.

"James, stop that! It's rude!" the girl scolds.

He snorts out another laugh before quieting down.

When the girl turns to her, checking over her limbs to make sure she's alright, Ellie becomes very aware of the close proximity and hurriedly exits, words of gratitude and apologies slipping off her tongue in unsure stutters.

Yeah, Ellie needs to find a compartment that she can't make a fool of herself in.

* * *

Kain Harris - sgt2x4

Kain shuffles aboard the train, trying to find the least inhabited car. It's difficult though, seeing as he hadn't known how to get to the platform and so he is late. He hadn't even known what a platform was, having never boarded a train before. He'd only been on a plane once before.

That had been a year ago, back when he'd first moved to London with his parents. It had been a nerve wracking experience, but a good one. He'd been able to leave behind the cause of his bad memories at the very least, thank goodness for that.

But this, this is a new experience all on its own. Kain has no parents to guide him or take him out of the hostile environment of another new school. It's going to be completely downhill, he can tell.

The train's whistle is shrill when it alerts it's passengers that they are departing. Knowing that he is out of time Kain picks his feet up and walks a bit quicker, glancing into multiple cars before finding a car with only a single student. He pulls his trunk in and startles when he realizes there is no way he can stay in that car.

Sitting alone, examining something that looks like a tooth, a sharp one at that, is a girl. She is obviously of Asian descent and is smirking manically at her pure white object.

"Oh, but you are a handsome devil," she whispers to the fang. At least he thinks it's the fang she is talking to. "Take note, Watson. This werewolf lived to be ninety-seven! Fantastic!"

"Umm..." Kain let's the word slip from his mouth before he can think to stop himself.

The girl's eyes never leave the hexagonal glass. Perhaps Kain should leave. Perhaps he never should have walked in. He begins to turn away but a cat hisses behind him and he moves further into the car.

There's a prodding at his back and he flinches away from the touch. The magnifying glass is then directed at him and the girl slowly examines him through what appears to be glass similar to that used in kaleidoscopes.

"Interesting," she mutters, "how very interesting."

To say that Kain is feeling self conscious would not be inaccurate. Brits, he thinks, are most certainly a strange people.

Scribbling in a purple notebook she's pulled from nowhere, absolutely nowhere, the girl madly chuckles to herself, exclaiming words in some foreign language he can't begin understand.

"W-w-well then. I-uhh-I-I'll just... Umm-err-"

A hand is thrown up,fingers littered with neon colored band aids, then it smoothly motions to the seat opposite the girl.

"Do not just stand there, boy. You are letting in hot air. I do not approve," the girl grumbles.

She hardly glances at him when he struggles to get his trunk into the overhead compartment and sits across from her.

The cat from before walks circles between them before deciding to nuzzle into the girls red shoes and starts to doze off.

Silence stretches between them for a long period of time before Kain thinks that he should at least attempt to make friends. This odd girl may have her quirks, but there is still the possibility that she may make a suitable friend yet. But, she's rather cute and that's a bit worrisome. Kain has always had trouble speaking with people. Especially girls. Most especially pretty girl's.

Okay. Okay, just think of her as a guy, Kain. You can do this. She's... She's a guy or... Umm... Something... Or, you know what? Don't imagine her at all. You're talking to yourself! Yes, that's it, yourself!

"I-"

She slams her book shut and looks up at him with the most intense and piercing eyes he's ever seen. "Really now, even I know how to speak with people. Your stutter is annoying and you obviously do not have the capacity to hold a conversation with me."

Shoulders hunching, Kain's wide eyes wearily dart toward the door. Perhaps he should escape.

"No, I do not believe that is so. That is only one of few possibilities. By my observations I can not yet tell if you are the moron i have pegged you as. What I can tell is that your stutter is most likely psychosomatic. I can tell by your shifting eyes, the way you hold yourself and the perspiration, from the second you entered my car, and yes this shall henceforth be my car, that you have social anxieties. That is not uncommon, nor is it unwise. Children these days can be quite cruel. You, however, hold yourself in such a way as if you expect to be struck. Judging by that scar over your right eye it is two years old at most? Well, by the jagged shape I can easily deduce that the weapon in choice was a rock. One might say it was a parent's strike, but generally they do not use rocks and if it were an abusive adult they most likely would not have released you into the custody of wizards. Not that they'd have a choice. You've been badgered for most of your short existence, only likely answer. Then there is your mass."

Kain cringes and attempts to suck his belly in subtly. His attempt is not exactly subtle.

"You are a bit short and most definitely overweight, even for the normal American child. I should advise you that it is unhealthy for a nervous eater's comfort food to be a cheeseburger and that you should find an alternative."

"B-but how did you-?"

"How did I know you were a nervous eater and that your favorite food is a cheeseburger?" She sneers as if she had known the question were coming from miles away. "Well, judging by the crumbs and the grease stain on your shirt - don't worry, it's black, no one with even half my intellect and observation skills will be able to tell - coupled with your American accent, I have surmised that you delight in the regular burger. As for your disorder, well, I highly doubt you'd have packed more if that were not the case. And before you ask how I know you have more and assume that I am psychic, psychics do not exist. I am just that good. Also your trunk stinks of grilled beef."

Jaw metaphorically dropping to the ground and rendered speechless Kain only stares. He is, for lack of better words due to lack of brain functioning, amazed. This girl is amazing. How does she exist? He'd like to ask her so many things; how is she able to read him and if she is this rude to anyone else. He doesn't get the chance too though as she is speaking a mile a minute again.

"Please, close your mouth," the girl sniffs. "Your unsightly gob still contains bits of beef ground even more by your teeth."

Shifting a bit she reaches into her black vest and pulls out what appears to be a lollipop. There's a golden oval at the end of a white stick. She hands it to Kain before standing, waking the feline at her feet in the process. It mewls dejectedly before yawning.

"It's called a 'tea spoon'. Should help that ghastly odor," she says whilst not meeting his eye. She unlatches the door with swift fingers, allowing her black cat to exit first. "Off we go, John."

"Kain!" he shouts. He hadn't meant to!

"That name is not suited to a cat. In fact, it is an awful name," she tsks.

"Oh, uhh, n-no. My name. Kain is m-my n-name," he slumps into his seat.

" Oh," the girl seems a bit surprised. Her mouth opens to say something else but she let's it drop when a commotion is heard. Her eyes glint in the light and she's racing away. "Another case to solve! Come along, John!"

Kain stares out the window, brows dipping and hands clenching in his lap. Maybe he should just go home. Yes, he should. If people are going to pick on him like that again then he'd rather they not be able to do so with a magic accessible to them.

* * *

Gypsy Willis - RosemaryAlysse

The girl who glides into her car is younger than the rest of the other students. She's dressed in her Hufflepuff uniform already while a flower crown adorns her head. The flowers almost blend in to the brunette locks due to the state of decomposition, some of them wilting and losing petals. Gypsy fancies them this way. Death is, after all, a natural result of living, and they'd been half way to the grave already. They should be shown off while there is still time.

Quiet overtakes the room but Gypsy doesn't notice. She is seated betweensome random students she can't recall the names of, but that's alright. Perhaps their paths were not meant to parallel one another, simply cross ways once before parting.

"The feast will be lovely," she says to no one in particular.

Gypsy can practically taste the ripe vegetation she is soon to invest. Can smell the wax from the candles and the collective liquid anxiety from her peers. It's all so very lovely. The best part of the evening, in Gypsy's opinion, will be the sorting. The hat never lies! And it's songs are so pleasant.

That's not to say the other children will have an easy time. No, they'll probably be picked on a bit. Their classes will be difficilt and different from anything she's experienced. Luckily the Hufflepuffs will have Gypsy to guide them through the ins and outs of Hogwarts.

Now and then Gypsy does get a bit lost what with those temperamental staircases, but she finds her way eventually.

Whatever the case, Gypsy Willis has been given the honor of Hufflepuff Prefect. Lovely.

* * *

Albus Severus Potter

Separating from his brother and cousins is a nerve wracking experience. He can't remember a second of his life where a Weasley or Potter hadn't been within kicking distance.

Rose is with him and that's a relief, but He can still feel that tight grip around his heart, like when he goes to aunt Luna's and her husband and sons are playing with some new, dangerous looking creature he's never even heard of. Or when aunt 'Mione tries to cook.

Albus shudders. Yeah, scary.

So many names are called before him, those students are sorted into their own respective houses. Rose has made a game of it, guessing which student goes where. She's correct on all accounts, which is scary. It's really frightening how often Rose is right. She has yet to tell Albus what house she think he'll be in, which terrifies him. Like, does she think he really will be a Slytherin?

Dad may have tried to reassure him at the station, but Albus can't help his lack of enthusiasm when it comes to Slytherin. Sure, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw have produced dark witches and wizards as well, but there is some kind of stigma. James says they're cursed.

Albus doesn't believe that! Well alright, maybe he does a little, but lookat all the evidence! Rumors are born from some truth, right? At least that's what Louis says.

"Al!" Rose whispers with a nudge.

"What?" he startles and looks around. All eyes are on him now.

That's not freaky at all.

"It's your turn," she smiles and giggles quietly.

The stool is empty, hat raised above it, and uncle Neville is waiting with a small smile. Oh.

Albus rushes up to the stool, stumbling once, and sits down with a severely flushed face. When the hat is cerimoniously placed upon his head he inhales and shuts his eyes.

"Ah, another Potter," an old voice hums.

"Not Slytherin. Not Slytherin. Not Slytherin," Albus pleads.

"Think you're too good for Slytherin, eh? How very like your father. I'd put you there out of spite, but that isn't how this is done," the hat speaks through the incessant begging. "You Potters' and Weasleys', always think you know what's what, don't you?"

"Please. I don't want to be a dark wizard. I swear, I'm not bad."

"Not a dark wizard, eh? Well you aren't cunning enough. You lack the ambition of Slytherin! No, you aren't anything like a Ravenclaw either," the hat mumbles. "I know exactly where to put you boy."

The entirety of the hall grows confused but cheer anyway when the hat announces to the world.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"


	4. Bad Reputation(Unbowed,Unbent,Unbroken)

Yo! MaliceArchangela here! Since you already met two of our resident Slytherins in chapter 1 (Albert Darling and Scorpio Malfoy), I shall introduce the rest of our regular Slytherin cast. There is room for a few more, but NO MORE PUREBLOODS, and NO BULLIES. Both slots are taken care of, and are unnecessary for being a Slytherin. Two of the most well-known characters of the series were half-bloods and in Slytherin (three if you count the fact that HARRY POTTER HIMSELF was supposed to be a Slytherin, according to the Sorting Hat). Likewise, bullying doesn't equal ambition. A lot of good wizards probably come out of Slytherin, but bad news sells better. Merlin was a Slytherin, and nobody seems to think he was bad!

So if you want to submit Slytherins, send me ambitious Muggleborns or Half-bloods, but no more purebloods. They're a dying race, remember?

* * *

**Skylar Davenport - GleekPJOFreak**

One more year. They had been so close. If it had happened just one year later, everything would have been fine.

But it didn't. It had happened only a few months ago, and all it served was to teach him a very valuable lesson.

Three , to be precise.

Firstly, uncontrolled magic is dangerous.

Secondly, children have no influence on the decisions of adults.

And finally, lie. Always lie.

A lesson he learned too late.

Skylar reaches up to his throat and rips at the tie "Mummy" had tied so tightly around his neck. He smirks as he leans back in his seat.

That feels better.

Time to have a little fun.

He looks up to the door, and sees a pair of earnest brown eyes looking in.

His smirk grows more pronounced as he gestures for her to enter.

A first year, just like him, judging by the lack of any specific House color around her neck.

She introduces herself as Clarissa. He files the information away for later.

Could be useful after all.

"So," he says easily, leaning back in his seat, "Any House that you're hoping to be sorted into?"

She bites her lip, "I'm not sure. My dad and uncle were Gryffindor..."

"Ah, so a lion-hearted legacy?" his words could be construed as flattery, or even interest.

If it wasn't for that sly undercurrent that nipped ever so slightly.

"Not quite..."

"What's your family name?" he tilted his head, knowing that he looked eagerly curious, "Anyone I would know?"

"I don't think..."

"Well then, we've knocked off one House," Sky sneers ever so slightly, "If you don't think, you simply cannot be a Ravenclaw."

The girl with the glossy brown locks, Clarissa, looks quite undersandably confused at the more biting tone.

"Excuse me..."

"Ah, and too polite," he laughs scathingly, "You certainly don't have the response to be a Slytherin. And judging by the way you're cowering in your seat, you more definitely do not have the courage to be a Gryffindor."

She shoots to her feet, her eyes blazing, "Now you listen here..."

He tsks his tongue at her as he swings his feet around, lounging on his seet, "Oh dear, and now you're being rude. Certainly not fitting for a Hufflepuff either. Goodness Clarissa," somehow he manages to make her name sound like a curse, "I cannot imagine whereever they plan to put you. Are you certain that they didn't make a mistake in inviting you here?"_  
_

"But...but...my dad, my uncle..."

He shakes his head, almost in a pitying manner, "Oh dear, Clarissa, did no one ever tell you? Even the purest of families sometimes throw out Squibs. I can only imagine that it's even more common amongst a family of Muggleborns."

She blinks rapidly, "How..."

"Oh, do you take me for an idiot?" he scoffs, "You only mention your father and uncle as wizards, it coudn't be more obvious that they must be the only ones. If you ask me..."

She's suddenly standing over him, eyes blazing, even as her voice remains perfectly calm, ot changing in the slightest as she speaks, "I do not believe anyone asked you. Therefore, it's in your best interest to keep your mouth shut until someone ASKS you for your opinion directly."

She scoops up her her owl cage, and manages to lift her heavy trunk with surprising ease. She looks down her nose at him, a regal bearing, momentarily shocking him into silence.

Then, she does something that he wasn't expecting at all.

She smiles at him, tossing her glossy brown pigtails slightly.

"It's not easy leaving your family like this, is it?" is she PITYING him? "Of course, that doesn't mean you treat people like this. I'd suggest cooling your head a bit, before we arrive. It's easier to make friends when you don't go about biting people's heads off."

And there she goes, head held high.

Sky rolls his eyes, even as he does revel in the silence once more.

Strange, how used to the quiet he's become. When Spencer was around...well...the twins had always been boisterous. Loud, even when Mum and Dad had told them to be quiet.

But that time was gone.

He has no clue where Spencer might be, though Sky hoped that he was happier away from their household.

Why wouldn't he be happier, away from the crazies in the Davenport Household.

He grabs his hat from where it's perched on the luggage, and tilts it over his eyes, in preparation for taking a short nap.

And with any luck, Spence wouldn't haunt his dreams tonight.

Just as he's ready to drift off, he shoots up, scrambling for his luggage, searching through the pockets until he finds what he's looking for.

Finally he finds it, the little toy top that was his brother's favorite toy.

Spence likes to make it spin, both with and without magic. Mum and Dad didn't think to pack it to go with him. And Spence...he didn't remember anything at all. He had't recognized the little toy when Sky had shown him.

So, it's his now.

All his.

* * *

**Valentina Levkova - Artemis' hunters**

English is a strange language, truly. Especially when everyone is talking at once and she cannot pick out individual conversations.

But despite the brewing headache from her attempt to follow the new language (she's only learned so much by now, after all, she's currently mostly relying on a language spell Bashta had cast for her), she cannot help but feel excited at experiencing a completely different culture. Sure, she had heard about it many times from Bashta, but there's only so much he can tell her in a way that she'd be able to understand without experiencing it for herself.

Everyone goes silent at last as they are lead into what Valentina is under the impression is called the "Great Hall".

Great is the English word for "big", is it not?

So...big hall? Not the most original name, but okay...

She shoots to attention as the professor starts to speak, her spine at an angle that would make her Mama proud. She ignores the slight pain as she plasters a ladylike smile on her face.

She must practice often, or else Mama would be disappointed in her.

Even Bashka doesn't like to make Mama angry. He protects her, but he confides in her that it is best to avoid making her angry in the first place.

Especially since Mama is still in the conference stage for arranging her marriage. Mama hopes to solidify the bethrothal before the end of the year. Therefore, Valentina must make sure that she is as perfect as possible, and that she does not make Mama angry during these talks.

It might make things better in the long run.

She doesn't realize just how long she dazed out, only to be recalled by hearing her name.

Nervously, she walks to the front of the "Hall" (really, it looks more like Mama's ballrooms back home, except full of tables like the dining room, but really, the differences between the two are exceedingly subtle), and perches in the chair, on the edge like a true lady, crossing her ankles slightly as she smooths down her skirt.

"Remember who you are," Mama always says, "You are a Levkova, and if you do not remember this, then I will be forced to remind you."

She suppresses a shudder (not ladylike), and waits for the hat to be dropped lightly on her head.

_"Strange one, aren't you?"_

She starts a little at that.

Hats are not supposed to talk.

But it is rude not to respond when one is spoken to.

"What do you mean?" she thinks inside her mind.

_'"I'm simply wondering what to do with you. You possess a type of courage, yes, but not the recklessness. Even though you have a firm sense of right and wrong. Everything is black and white with you, isn't it?"_

"But..."

_"You're young, you will learn. So no, not Gryffindor. You're intelligent, but you don't thirst for knowledge simply for it's own sake. You simply want to learn so you can avoid consequences. Not a good reason, I suggest you think of something better."_

"You are a hat," she thinks at it, "How can you have an opinion on my life?"

_"It is something that you gain the right to when you're sentient for several hundred years. If you live that long, then you can criticize my opinions. Not Ravenclaw material at all. You like to play the happy, idealistic little girl, but that's not really you. Your father helps you indulge this little fantasy, but I believe you'll find things change very quickly here. Not Hufflepuff material. However, you do, deep DEEP down possess the steely backbone and cunningness for..."_

"SLYTHERIN!"

Amidts the applause (as minor as it is compared to the cheers for all of the other Houses), she walks tall, balancing slightly forward on the balls of her feet (like a ballerina, Mama says) and sits gracefully on one of the long benches.

To her right, there is a redhead who stares at his plate with stern ice blue eyes, ignoring everything around her.

Across the table, there is a white-blond boy with an easy grin, who nods at her before turning his eyes back to the proceedings.

And to her left, there is a boy with dark brown hair, and a self-satisfied smirk, playing idly with a wooden toy on the table.

Are these the people she will be spending the next seven years with?

Only time will tell.


End file.
